


Guilt

by chibiwriter



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.</p><p>Fenris helps Hawke cope with the endgame guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

Hawke had not spoken in days. Nearly a week had passed since they had fled Kirkwall, and the mage had been eerily silent. Not even Varric had been able to draw out more than a grunt and a vague hand motion from the man.

The others were beginning to worry. Merrill fidgeted more often than not, her large eyes torn between the hulking figure of their leader and attempting to wordlessly plead with Fenris to speak with him. Sebastian had cut loose after the third day, heading to Starkhaven to help rally support to their cause and combat the ‘tyranny’ of the templars. He promised to return and travel with them, but Fenris was uncertain if his people would let him out of their clutches a second time.

Isabela was able to lighten the mood only so much, but in the long, somber hours that stretched on into days, even the charismatic pirate fell silent. Aveline and Donnic rounded out their motley crew, but the couple kept to themselves and spoke only in hushed whispers when they bed down for the night.

So it was, that on the eighth night of their exodus from the blighted and beloved city, Fenris broke. Well, he decided to do something, at any rate. When the sun was setting the other were setting up camp, the elf took their leader by the hand and lead him into the woods – the excuse of ‘getting firewood’ earning him a sly look from the pirate and a hopeful look from the bloodmage. He ignored both women.

He did not allow Hawke the chance to even slightly take his excuse at face value. The moment the mage bent down to pick up a branch was the moment Fenris knocked him down and set himself in the other’s lap. The surprised grunt and wide eyes were enough of a change in expression to warrant Fenris feeling guilty for letting his somber, stony countenance become the norm.

“Fen-”

The elf cut him off, fisting a hand in his dark hair and pulling him for a rough kiss. The noise Hawke made- It was enticing. As were his hands, large and warm, trailing up and down his spine in ways that made Fenris shudder. Desire. How had he forgotten? It had been hellish for so long that the mage’s hand were enough to stir his want. But that was not the point of this, much to his vague annoyance.

“Enough.” Fenris said, pulling away slightly to stare at Hawke. He wouldn’t dare admit it, but the dark flush and heavy panting from the mage did much to stroke his ego. Just a tad.

“Enough?” Hawke asked, voice rough. Fenris nodded his head, running a gentle hand through his hair and stroking his cheek. It had been a good decision to take off his gauntlets before leaving camp.

“Enough of this, Hawke.” he said, locking gazes with him and trying to settle the flutter of his heart when amber eyes gave him their full attention.

“What exactly is ‘this’?” the mage asked slowly, hesitantly moving his hands away from where they had stilled on the elf’s hips. Fenris scowled and, realizing that his lover was denser than he’d thought, caught the mage’s hands and returned them to their previous place.

“Not _us_.” he snapped, on edge from how much the single motion had unsettled him, “Enough of your _moping_.”

The brief flicker of light that had appeared in Hawke’s eyes from the reassertion of their relationship died out. Fenris noted the twitch of a muscle in his cheek.

“I apologize.” Hawke said, his tone steely, “I hadn’t realized that my reaction to the death of hundreds that now sits on my shoulders was _depressing_ you.”

Fenris felt his own anger and indignation rise. “This isn’t on you, Hawke!”

“Isn’t it?” the mage spat, eyes dark and expression twisted in disgust.

“Champion of Kirkwall?” Hawke’s laugh was bitter. Fenris did not like the sound. “What good is a Champion when he can’t even see that a person close him would- that he would-”

Hawke’s breath caught and Fenris pulled him close, let him breathe harsh breaths against his neck. He had not seen Hawke this distraught since, well, his mother’s death. And just as he had done then, the mage bottled it all up and tried to put on a brave face for those who depended on him. And just as back then, all in their group could easily see through the cracks that their leader was hurting.

“I should’ve known, Fenris. I should’ve _seen_.” His voice cracked and Fenris couldn’t help his wince. “Maker, and I _helped_ him do it! I _knew_ there was something off with the ingredients he had us fetch for him. And distracting the Grand Cleric-”

“Anders was crazy, Hawke.” Fenris said, stroking his fingers through the hair at the back of his skull.

“No, he wasn’t.” Hawke said, his voice almost sulky against the elf’s chest.

“He let a spirit into his head, Hawke. We never saw the man he once was – only the abomination he became from that joining.” Fenris tried to keep his voice calm, but the disgust he felt for the mage made his mouth press into a thin line.

Hawke huffed a sigh, pulling back so he could glare up at Fenris. “He was _not_ crazy.” he said sternly. Then his face fell. “Or am I crazy for believing that?”

“You aren’t crazy, Hawke.” Fenris said, pausing for a moment in consideration, “Well, no crazier than the man that challenged a Qunari to a duel to save Isabela’s lovely, barely-covered ass, anyway.” That managed to wring a laugh from the mage, and Fenris felt his heart crack from the sound.

But the jovial mood dispersed at quickly as it had appeared. “Anders wasn’t crazy, Fenris. Not for the longest. He… Well, I think he broke from all of Meredith’s lunacy. She pushed him over the edge… Made him think that the only solution was all-out war.”

The mage fell silent, brows knitting together as he swallowed harshly. Fenris resisted the urge to press a kiss there to smooth out the wrinkled skin. "And I _killed_ him." His voice was a dry whisper, like wind on fallen leaves. "I killed my _friend_ , Fenris. Because he thought his only choice was to take away all choices, including mine."

“Then at last we are in agreement.” Fenris mused, using a hand to tilt up the man’s chin to peer into his eyes, “None of this is your fault.”

“But-”

Fenris’s hand tightened on Hawke’s jaw. “It is as you said - Meredith drove Anders to lash out in madness. That was their choice, and nothing you could said or done would’ve changed that.”

Hawke frowned. Fenris sighed and pressed a gentle kiss upon the mage’s forehead, shifting has hand to stroke the mage’s cheek. He smiled to himself when he felt a small fraction of the tension within the mage ease.

“There is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.”

The mage snorted, frowning at the elf in his lap. “Fine advice coming from someone who has an unfortunate inclination to cling to the past.” he grumped, but Fenris would not let himself get baited.

“It is.” Fenris said, offering him a small smile, “But any and all progress I have made in letting go, I have learned to do so from watching you.”

Hawke studied him for some time, and Fenris basked in the moment to have his full attention. The mage let out a long sigh, eyes closing briefly as he relaxed by some small degree. “I apologize for worrying you.”

Fenris felt his lips twitch. “I find I am increasingly worried about you for the sake of worrying about you.”

Hawke tilted his head, eyes glittering in the light of the dying sun. “Oh?”

“ _Yes_.” It came out like an exasperated sigh, and Fenris squashed any comments the mage would have made by pressing their lips together. For a person who knew so many languages, he was finding that he was utterly terrible at communicating.

The kiss was long and tender. Even when they parted, they stayed close enough to breathe each other’s breath – safe and secure in the knowledge that the other was alive and well despite the odds against them.

Hawke chuckled and Fenris cracked open his eyes to see the mage grinning. “”We should probably actually start collecting firewood.” he said.

Fenris raised a brow, glancing at the rapidly darkened woods. “I seriously doubt we could find any now.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve been sitting on this _giant_ stick for ages now.” Hawke’s smirk was positively roguish.

Fenris let out a guffaw in disbelief, pushing off of the silly mage. He held out a hand to pull a snickering Hawke up off the forest floor, unable to keep the undignified noise from rising out of his throat when the man swooped in for a cheeky kiss. They intertwined their fingers and began to stumble their way back to camp, the dark mood of the last week temporarily lifted.

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt a friend sent me. Originally posted to my Tumblr.


End file.
